Arcadia Chapter 2.2

“Hey… Are you really memorizing all of this?”

Dia nodded his little head vigorously. Communication had become relatively easier thanks to Van first teaching him that nodding meant yes and shaking his head meant no.

“Really?”

‘oO’

A lowercase letter block was placed snugly next to its uppercase counterpart. Van, still skeptical of Dia who looked up at him while blinking his eyes, abruptly pointed to a children’s book he had brought.

“What’s this.”

‘BoOk’

“What about that.”

‘TABLE’

“And me?”

‘PAN’

“I told you that’s not it… Hey. You’re messing with me now, aren’t you.”

No matter how many times Van corrected him, Dia stubbornly picked the P. It was so ridiculous—the kid had memorized the spellings for window, chair, sofa, even glass, but he couldn’t get someone else’s name right. Van rubbed his dry face in exasperation. He’d already been teased enough about his name, so this was getting on his nerves. At this point, it had to be teasing.

“Your name isn’t any easier. It’s not nice to make fun of people’s names.”

Dia, who had been sneaking glances at Van’s stern expression, cautiously dragged over two other blocks. Van burst out laughing when he confirmed the completed sentence.

‘mY PAN’

“Hey. Who says I’m yours?”

With a clatter, the next wooden block was put in place. The child looked up, seeming satisfied.

‘YoU’

“…Do you even know what you’re doing? This is a little weird.”

Van took a sharp breath, hissing, and crossed his arms.

He had grown excessively fast, and now he was learning excessively fast too. It seemed like he was just guessing everything, but then he would also combine words to fit the situation, which naturally made Van tilt his head in confusion. His learning speed was so fast that Van himself was getting hazy about what he had taught and what he hadn’t. It felt like a relief that his speech was clumsier than his writing.

“Did I teach him this?”

His finger hovered near the block. Had he taught him personal pronouns? Possessives? He was starting to get confused himself and tore at his hair. It was possible that the kid had overheard him talking to himself and roughly figured it out by the pronunciation. It was an unbelievable thought, but the birth of a once-in-a-century genius was at least more plausible than the idea of a strange creature living in his basement.

“Right… If you’re smart, well, it’s possible.”

Dia, who had been responding dutifully with the wooden blocks, started to act distracted. The old blocks clattered as they were shuffled between his fingers, the bones in his hands faintly visible.

“Baa…”

“Huh? What is it.”

Lost in thought, Van looked down at Dia upon hearing the soft voice. The child, as if moved that Van had answered him, covered his mouth with his two small hands and smiled. As if that wasn’t enough, he pushed through the teaching aids, came closer, and grabbed Van’s knee, thrusting his face forward.

“Baan!”

“…What.”

His laughter grew louder. A sigh-laced laugh even escaped from Van, who had been maintaining a gruff expression.

For some reason, he felt like he was being played by a shrewd little kid. Van cupped the puffed-up cheeks in front of him with both hands and pulled, then placed a light kiss on the child’s eyelids, which closed naturally. Whether Dia’s true identity was a man-eating monster or an alien who had come to conquer Earth, it couldn’t be denied that he was, at times, lovable.

20xx. 12. 9. In the middle of teaching. I think I have a talent for education. Of course, Dia is smart (excessively so), but still, I think I have some talent too.

20xx. 12. 9. In the middle of teaching. I think I have a talent for education. Of course, Dia is smart (excessively so), but still, I think I have some talent too.

As soon as he started teaching the child to speak, the clock hands that had been moving sluggishly began to spin rapidly. Dia absorbed his teachings as if he were soaking everything in, and it wasn’t long before Van ran out of things to teach. Ever since he learned the language, the child lived with the word ‘why’ on his lips, curious about so many things, and Van, who was at a loss for words with every question, would irresponsibly respond with ‘just because.’ His hope that he might have a talent for education fizzled out.

Just as Van had come up from the basement for lunch—more accurately, to escape the child’s barrage of questions—the loud ringing of the doorbell reached his ears. It seemed to have been ringing continuously while he was in the basement, but the soundproofing was so good that he hadn’t heard a thing.

He hurriedly climbed out of the opening and pressed the remote. As the decorative shelf slowly concealed the basement, the sound of someone knocking roughly on the front door continued. As soon as the shelf was back in its place, Van ran to the front door and opened it a crack.

Through the gap in the door, he could see a crisply ironed police uniform. The officer seemed to have been waiting for quite a while, and the look in his eyes as he glanced between his notebook and Van was not entirely friendly. The back of Van’s neck grew stiff. Anyone would be like that if the police showed up at their house, but Van, who had something to hide in the basement, couldn’t help but be even more tense. The middle-aged police officer asked.

“Michel Clark?”

“Yes. That’s family.”

Van, who opened the door while blocking the view into the house, maintained a calm demeanor in front of the officer, who was scratching his forehead with the tip of his pen. The officer’s dry gaze scanned the tall man leaning against the doorframe.

“Well… it says here that Michel Clark is from Michigan. What is your exact relationship?”

“Ah. Michel is my grandmother, and my mother.”

“Is she Asian?”

“Yes.”

“Aha.”

The officer, who had replied nonchalantly while jotting something down, put his notebook in his breast pocket and lifted his chin.

“May I see your ID?”

“Just a moment.”

Van familiarly brushed aside a faint but undeniable suspicion and stepped into the house. The officer propped the self-closing door open with his foot and leaned crookedly against the entryway. Van avoided the gaze that followed the back of his head and headed for the kitchen where his wallet would be, pursing his lips.

Suddenly, he remembered the news about the murder Jack had told him. A body was found in the woods nearby, so if they still hadn’t caught the culprit, it was natural for their attention to turn to the nearby town. This is definitely not because of that thing. Van glanced at the decorative shelf and checked the firmly closed entrance one more time.

After finding his ID, Van headed for the front door, his nerves on edge, listening for any suspicious sounds from below. He handed his ID to the officer, who was showing his boredom by looking at his wristwatch despite not having waited that long.

“Van Clark?”

“Yes.”

A fake, emotionless smile followed as he took back the ID, which the officer had checked perfunctorily.

“This is just routine, so please don’t be offended. It says someone lives here, but no one was ever home when we came by.”

Van naturally blocked the officer’s view as he tried to peek inside the house and smiled nonchalantly.

“I’ve been a little busy. Is something going on nearby?”

“As you know, the culprit in the murder case hasn’t been caught yet. Have you seen any suspicious people around here?”

Just as I thought. He let out a sigh of relief internally and shook his head.

“This neighborhood is pretty isolated… I don’t think so.”

“If you see any strangers, please report it immediately.”

The officer removed the foot that had been propping the door open. He thought that since he doesn’t even go outside, there would be no chance of seeing any suspicious people, but he replied that he would and gave a nod. He closed the front door, glancing at the officer reporting on the walkie-talkie on his shoulder. Van peeked through a gap in the curtain covering the window at the officer lingering outside, and only after the presence disappeared did he stealthily head for the basement.

“Dia.”

“Baan!”

As he called for the child while climbing down the ladder, a clear voice echoed through the basement.

Although he had propped the glass door open with a metal plate so it wouldn’t close, Dia didn’t bother to come out of the room when Van was gone. He would just stare endlessly at the clock that was leaning against the wall. Van had tried putting a toy in his hands, telling him to play with that instead, but after he returned to the front of the clock with a sullen expression several times, Van had no choice but to leave him be.

“Looking at the clock again? Is it that fun?”

“Today, you were fast.”

Dia pointed to the clock hand, which had only moved halfway past 12, and smiled, his eyes crinkling. It was only natural, since he hadn’t eaten. Van crawled sluggishly into the separate room and delivered the news.

“The police were here.”

“Why?”

“Do you even know what the police are?”

He pinched the child’s cheek, a question that had become a habit. As the child shook his head with his cheek stretched, his golden hair fluttered gently. Dia, now able to move his neck freely, giggled and leaned his body.

Van quickly released the hand that was pinching his cheek and caught Dia as he tilted over. He let the child bury his face in his palm and nuzzle against it, and picked out the occupation cards from the teaching aids scattered on the floor.

“Here. Sit up properly.”

As Van sat cross-legged, Dia naturally climbed onto his lap and leaned the back of his head against Van’s chest. When Van held up the card with a person in uniform saluting and showed it to him, he brought his face right up to it, so Van pushed his forehead to move him further away.

“This is a police officer. Their job is to catch bad people.”

“Job?”

“Something you’re forced to do to earn money.”

“Money?”

“Something you need to live.”

Van placed the police officer card on the floor and laid out the rest of the cards in a row.

“What do you want to be from here? Pick one.”

“To be?”

“Anything. Whatever you like.”

He wouldn’t be able to have a job anyway, but he was a little curious about which occupation card the child would choose. He rested his chin on the warm top of the child’s head and waited. The child, who had been quietly looking down at the twenty-odd picture cards, slowly reached out his hand. Seeing the direction of his hand, Van tilted his head ambiguously.

“Um…”

A soldier was ambiguous. Hearing Van’s hum, which was brimming with displeasure, Dia stealthily changed direction. It was the police officer card he had just shown him.

“Dia.”

Van coaxed Dia in a gentle voice.

“Go ahead and pick what you want.”

Except for these.

He kicked away a few of the occupation cards known for being dangerous, low-paying, and high-labor-intensity with his foot. Among the remaining cards, whatever he chose would be reasonably okay. Dia, who had followed the fluttering cards with his eyes, giggled and leaned against Van’s back, so Van fixed his head to face the cards. His hand, which had been hovering between doctor and scientist, picked up a crookedly placed card.

“This one.”

Since it was an old teaching aid, the job classifications weren’t very detailed. Van thought that he forgot to remove that card and made a sour face.

“…A businessman?”

Van looked down at the strange picture drawn on the card. The person in a suit with a cool smile and the people holding his hands in a circle all had the same pasted-on faces. It felt more like the head of a shady organization than a businessman, and he vaguely guessed that the production company must have been too lazy to draw them properly.

“Alright. If it goes well, then…”